


Ashes in My Wake

by reciprocityfic



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Richonne - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-13
Updated: 2016-04-13
Packaged: 2018-06-02 01:37:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6545176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reciprocityfic/pseuds/reciprocityfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Negan forever changes them, sets their lives on fire and watches them burn down.  When he leaves, they are still in flames.  There are screams. There are tears.  And he feels like he is about to die; or, a short ficlet showing how the finale should have ended.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ashes in My Wake

His ears are ringing with the kind of overwhelming buzz that overtakes you when a gun fires too close to your head.  He can’t hear anything except the ringing, can’t see anything except for the headlights of the RV as Negan climbs back in with the promise to visit Alexandria home to set up term and conditions, and The Saviors drive it away.  He thinks the rest of the group has left as well, but he doesn’t look because he can’t move.

He can’t do anything except kneel, stare off into the space left by the RV in petrified horror and disbelief.

Sound comes back gradually, like swimming up slowly from underwater, or coming out of a tunnel. And soon, he can’t hear anything but ringing and her screams.  Blood-curdling, shrieking, piercing the velvety black veil that night casts over the earth.

There is a pang in him to get up, to help, to lead his family, as he had always done.  But he can’t move.  He is numb and he is woozy and he is either is in shock or dying, and right now, he isn’t sure which one he would welcome more.

Hearing continues to come back.  He detects other noises now as well, most of it more wails, more crying.  But her screams are still distinct.  They are more disturbing than the rest.

He hears a shuffling beside them, and then _she_ is there, blocking his view of the RV’s empty spot.  His eyes land on her legs first as she kneels before him.  Slowly he trails his eyes up until he reaches her face.  She stares at him with wet, wide, panicked eyes.  Blood is splattered on one side of her face.

He gazes are her helplessly. He doesn’t know what to do.  He can’t move.

He sees her shoulders heave as she takes a deep breath, and then she reaches out to him, hesitantly, like she is afraid that if she moves too quickly both of them will break.  Her hands land on his cheeks.  She smooths her fingers over his skin before pulling his face towards her.  She rests her forehead on his, squeezes his cheeks tighter, like he is her lifeline. She is overwhelmed.  He is attuned to her now, has been for years, and that bond has only strengthened in the short time they have been together.  He knows she is close to breaking.  Even in his impaired state, he can tell.

The contact is for both of them, he realizes.  Everything has changed.  They are weak.  They are scared.  They are defeated.

And they need each other.

Her touch is so fierce it hurts, but he doesn’t care.  At least it makes him feel something.  It thaws him, makes him reach out and thread his fingers through her hair, and he can feel her locs, still in his pocket, burning a hole in the denim of his jeans.

His heart beats.  She inhales him.

And screams continue to ring out into the cool air.


End file.
